Earlier this month I shared with you some very intimate poems that I love and have loved for years. I don't consider my own poetry very good. You see, my poetry is simply a by-product of my passion for writing. I use it as a way to get words on paper and begin my writing process. I had an instructor in college (different one this time) who told me one of the best cures he knew for writer's block was to just write anything, freewrite. I took that advice to heart and it's helped me through more blocks than I can count. Most of the time I write unintelligible trash; other times I end up with a poem. Rarely, I find one of those poems has some merit and is worth developing further. I offer two of those poems to close the celebration.
My Kitchen Window
by Laurie Laliberte
If I stand right here
I can see out my kitchen window.
Through the dining room,
Beyond the butler's pantry
I look out my kitchen window.
I see just the branches
Of that old oak out back
Full of leaves
Turned bright green
By the summer sun.
The leaves turn.
They change color
First yellow,
Now orange,
Now red,
Now brown.
The air gains a chill.
One lonely brown leaf
Hangs
From a grey branch.
The branches quake
In the nor'easter's wind.
Snow changes to rain,
Rain to sun,
And that old oak
Explodes
With yellow green buds.
A robin sings
Hidden
By the leaves
Turned bright green
By the summer sun.
Altar
by Laurie Laliberte
My father's chair
Sits empty
Its surface worn with thirty years of use
Headphones hung with care
After a life lost
Ella, Nat, and Billie mourn him
As I have for many frenzied years
My eyes meet his
Every time I pass a mirror
Much love to all my readers.
